by Jed Power
Chapter 25
Tony Peralta felt good for a change; things were starting to look up. They'd been after this Dan Marlowe character for a while now, blowing a couple of shots at him, and getting shot himself in the process. And now here was Marlowe, in the back of the rented Buick LaSabre, sitting there with Rhonda beside him, staring at the gun Tony was pointing at him from the front seat. Wayne was driving.
They only had a short distance to go once they finally broke free of all the traffic at the Casino on Ocean Boulevard. After that it was only a long minute before they were pulling into Tony's driveway on Boar's Head. A few minutes after that and they had Marlowe sitting in the middle of the main room in an antique chair, his hands bound with belts to the armrests.
Wayne and Rhonda lounged in the background as if this was something that happened every day while Tony kept his pistol pointed straight at Marlowe. And Marlowe, with his beery eyes, was sitting there looking right back at Tony. The man wasn't really drunk though. He seemed to have sobered up fast the second Tony pressed the barrel of the gun against his head. The poor bastard had probably been hoping something a little more pleasant would be against his squash tonight–like Rhonda's tits maybe–except this nut sitting in front of him had blown Rhonda off. Maybe the guy was queer or something. Passing up laying something like Rhonda?
She was pissed about it too. Tony let out a little chuckle when he thought of what her face must have looked like when Marlowe said no. Maybe it'd knock the broad down a peg or two.
But his mood didn't last long, because he suddenly remembered something else. "So, asshole, you think it was a big joke taking a pop at me with that shotgun?"
Marlowe didn't answer, but Wayne snorted. Tony gave him a look. Wayne cleared his throat and turned quiet. Rhonda just sat on one end of a long couch flipping through a magazine.
Tony turned back to Marlowe. "What? Forgot how to talk? You think it's a scream I had to get all those pellets plucked out of my rump? Huh? Think that's funny?"
"I was defending my property," Marlowe said, slurring his words slightly.
"Defending your property? What the fuck's that mean? I wasn't on your property when you let me have it. I was in the state park. That's not your property. That's state property. And I'm a state resident. Taxpayer too. You shot me in the back, for Chrissake. I should let you defend yourself against this." Tony took a step closer and swung the .22 up like he was going to backhand him with the weapon. Marlowe's head jerked.
"Nah, with my luck I'd fucking kill you." Tony pointed the gun back at Marlowe's chest. "And I can't do that, at least not yet. You have to tell me some things first. And you will tell me what I want to know, especially if you want me to change my mind and let you crawl out of here."
Marlowe didn't say a word.
"I'll ask you straight out, Marlowe. Where's the fucking coke?" He gave the gun in his hand a little jiggle, just to remind the man it was still there.
Marlowe shook his head. "I don't have any idea."
"Well, you better get an idea and quick," Tony said. "I gotta itchy trigger finger." Rhonda giggled, Wayne choked.
"Look," Marlowe said, as if he were trying to sound reasonable. "I don't know why everyone thinks I know something about this coke, but I'm telling you the truth. I don't know anything about it."
"Well, the little Mick flipped on you like a pancake," Tony lied. "Said you were in on the rip-off with him. And I believe him. He didn't have the brains to do it himself. Although, after seeing you pass up Rhonda, I'm wondering if I might've misjudged your IQ."
Wayne snorted again and Rhonda tore a page in her magazine. Tony cleared his throat. "So where the fuck is the coke, Marlowe?"
Marlowe just shook his head.
"Let me have some fun with him," Wayne said, standing up from his chair. "I'll make him talk."
Tony waved him back down. "Won't do any good right now." He stroked his chin with his free hand. "We just need to make him a little more scared of us." He stuck his face right up in Marlowe's mug. "I heard something once. Something about you having a little problem with cocaine. That true, Marlowe? You used to have a problem with that stuff? Bad shit, cocaine."
Tony leaned back and waved at Rhonda. "Hey, sweet cheeks. We got any of that awful cocaine stuff around?"
Rhonda got up from the sofa and strolled over to a bookcase by the wall. She slid open a drawer and pulled out a flat hunk of polished stone. Piled on the stone was about a half-ounce of very fine-looking cocaine. She held the stone up toward Tony like an offering. At the sight of the blow sparkling in the light Tony suddenly felt like he had to crap.
Christ, the stuff was working already and not on Dan Marlowe either. He looked over at the bound man and tried to forget about his churning bowels. His little plan was working though. Marlowe didn't look like he wanted to take on the world anymore. He looked like he was the one about ready to shit his pants. The guy looked even more nervous about the blow than Tony's gun. Amazing what that stuff could do. Rhonda kept holding the coke out, occasionally cocking her hips from side to side.
"You know," Tony waved his index finger in the air. "Sometimes I forget to be a good host. But I guess it's never too late. Would you like some of this?" He nodded toward Rhonda and the cocaine.
Marlowe's voice cracked. "No . . . uhh . . . no." His face flushed fire-engine red and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.
"Sure you would." Tony grinned. This was going to be fun. He'd get his answers and revenge for being shot as well. "Rhonda, baby. Give our guest some of that fine blow. Go ahead, honey, give him a taste."
Rhonda set the stone down on a nearby coffee table. She pulled out a small coke spoon, bent over, and dipped the spoon into the coke. When she stood up, the spoon was overflowing with powder. She walked seductively over to Marlowe with a big smile on her face. She was really enjoying this. Payback time for Marlowe's earlier brush-off? Like they say–there's nothing worse than a woman scorned.
Rhonda moved the spoon toward Marlowe's head and as she did he sucked in his breath as if he might blow the cocaine away.
Tony stepped closer and put the barrel of the gun against Marlowe's head. "Don't be rude, my friend," Tony said. "Just make the best of it. Things could be a lot worse than having a gorgeous hot woman piping coke up your beak. A lot worse."
Tony laughed. Rhonda's eyes narrowed and her lips parted as she moved the spoon under Marlowe's right nostril. Tony tapped the man's head lightly twice with the pistol, and Marlowe inhaled the coke up his nostril like he'd done it yesterday. His head snapped up and his eyes blinked rapidly a few times. Rhonda refilled the spoon and repeated the process with Marlowe's other nostril.
Tony pulled the gun away and watched Marlowe's reaction. The guy had definitely had a problem with the stuff at one time, that much was obvious. Being strapped to a chair would make anyone nervous, but not just anyone would change this much after just two lines. Marlowe fidgeted in his chair like he was sitting on a hot plate. His eyes bulged slightly and one looked like it was staring off to the side. His head swiveled back and forth, and every so often he'd glance around as if he'd heard someone sneaking up behind him. Tony brought the gun up quickly, stopping an inch from Marlowe's face. The man almost jumped out of his skin. Yeah, this guy'd had a bad problem. Tony laughed again. This could be almost as fun as making money.
"You seem a little nervous, Marlowe," Tony said. "Didn't you like my blow? Makes you feel real nice, doesn't it?" When he didn't get any response, Tony decided to have a little more fun.
"Look out, he's got a knife!" he shouted, looking over Marlowe's shoulder. The man's entire body jerked, almost tipping over the chair. Tony, Rhonda, and Wayne all burst into laughter. Tony stopped for a moment. "Sorry. I thought I saw someone." He laughed again.
"What's that?" Wayne suddenly yelled. No one jumped.
"Hey, how come it didn't work
for me?" Wayne asked, sounding disappointed.
Tony rolled his eyes. "Because you're a moron, that's why. He'd have to be a lot higher before that'd scare him twice in a row."
Rhonda jumped in. "Can I try it?"
Tony rubbed his face from forehead to chin. "Maybe later. It's time to get serious again."
This time Tony went nose to nose with Marlowe. "Are you going to tell me where the coke is or do I have to get mean?"
"I . . . I . . . d . . . don't kn . . . know." Marlowe's voice shook.
"All right, asshole. You asked for it." Tony picked the cocaine up from the table and walked over to the bookcase. He set his gun down and held the stone over a half-filled glass of water sitting on the shelf. He picked up a business card and began using it to shovel an easy gram of cocaine into the glass. He put the stone down, picked up a pen, and stirred the cocaine-laced water. Mission accomplished, he grabbed his gun and the glass of cocaine water, and walked back to where Marlowe was sitting. He put the gun's barrel against Marlowe's temple and the glass against his lips. "Drink or die," he said.
Marlowe drank. Every drop.
When he was finished, Tony called Rhonda over. "Want to have some fun with him?"
Rhonda's eyes brightened. "I will if I can have a couple of lines."
"Okay, okay," Tony answered irritably. Rhonda bounced over to the bookcase and laid out two huge lines with the business card. She pulled a squished-up bill out of the pocket of her skin-tight jeans, rolled it right up, and expertly snorted both lines. Then she rose up tall, her body slightly shivering. She flipped back her hair and turned around.
Shit, she was hot as hell already. Her lips were parted, her mouth loose, and her eyes full of cocaine. She walked over to Marlowe, every step almost a sex act in itself. Tony could feel himself getting hard. Jesus, she was unbelievable even when she was straight, but on blow she was like an animal. He almost felt like taking her himself right here, right now. He forced himself to focus on the load of coke and what he had to do if he wanted to keep this beautiful house of his.
He'd let her blow this Marlowe's mind and see what the guy would do. Why Tony considered something like this torture, he wasn't sure. Just a gut feeling. And it was working. Already Marlowe was thrashing around in the chair like a monkey in a cage. He was sweating and his face looked like he could use a blood pressure pill. And the cocaine water hadn't even kicked in yet. Then again, maybe it had.
"Come on, baby," Rhonda purred, as she stripped off her silk blouse, exposing beautiful tanned breasts. "I want to go crazy all over you. Mmmmmm." She was rubbing her breasts now with the flat of her hands, moaning, her head thrown back.
Tony cleared his throat. Jesus Christ. "What do you say, Marlowe? Tell me what I want to know and she's all yours. And I won't make you drink any more of my special cocktail either. Unless, of course, you want to."
Marlowe shook his head violently from side to side. Looked like the coke water was working; he was really bouncing around now. Tony could practically see the man's shirt expanding and contracting from his pounding heart.
"Ohhh," Rhonda breathed. She undulated her hips only a couple of feet from Marlowe's contorted face. "We'll do more coke and you can do anything you want to me." She unbuttoned her jeans. They were so tight she had trouble peeling them past her hips. But she finally did, and when her blonde hair was exposed she began stroking her thighs and whimpering.
That did it for Tony. This wasn't going anywhere anyhow. He grabbed Rhonda by the arm and dragged her toward the bedroom. As he went by the bookcase he picked up the stone with the coke on it. He glanced at Wayne, sitting ramrod straight in his chair. "See what you can do with him, Wayne. But be careful. Don't fucking kill him."
"No problem, Boss," Wayne said, jumping up with a grin. "It'll be my pleasure. I have a little tension to work out anyway."
Tony led Rhonda into the bedroom, pushing her in front of him as he went. He should be out there supervising the big lummox. After all, Wayne might get carried away again. But right now he was the one carried away and he knew it and he didn't care. He had to have some coke and this hot, beautiful bitch right now.
Tony turned and closed the bedroom door, grinning at the sight of Marlowe–bound and thrashing like a madman–in the chair with Wayne, huge fists balled at his sides, towering over him.
~*~*~